Vulnerable
by ryderberry
Summary: Blyder Drabble. Blaine and Ryder end up together in the choir room. Tears are shed and looks are exchanged.


Blaine sat quietly in the soulless choir room. He twiddled his thumbs, watching the walls as they seemed to stand there, watching him in return. Ever since he broke up with Kurt, the choir room seemed too painful to be in, like he had said to Finn, everything in it reminded him of Kurt. But he decided that he had to face his fear, and so he sat in middle of the room, his chair adjacent to the cold, ebony piano. The ivory keys seemed to beg Blaine to play them, but he couldn't. He just sat there, thinking over the last month in every possible angle he could think of.

He then stopped, as he could feel the sting of all too familiar tears in the corner of his eye. He quickly straightened up, and continued to stare around the choir room. A faint smile arose on his face when he saw the Nationals Trophy, the trophy he had won, the trophy he and Sam had triumphantly retrieved from Dalton. Ultimately, it was the trophy that had kept him at McKinley.

Blaine's train of thought was disrupted by a patter of footsteps from down the hall. It was his free period, so there couldn't have been many other people walking around at this time, but he looked up to see Ryder walk in the choir room. The look on his face implied that he wasn't expecting someone to be in here.

"Hey Ryder." Blaine said calmly, but couldn't help noticing his eyes were a little puffy. He had been crying.

Ryder tried to return the smile, but could only commit to a look. He felt so low, despite a pep talk from Finn. Dyslexia. He had never considered it before. He just thought he was stupid. But now that it had a name, he didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.

"Hey man, you okay?" Blaine asked, following Ryder as he trudged through the chairs, to take a seat in the corner. Ryder shook his head in return, not looking directly at Blaine, anywhere but. Then the tears started to fall. One by one. He couldn't keep it in anymore.

Blaine didn't know what to do. Should he leave Ryder to cry himself out? Or should he comfort him, tell him what he wants to hear? Blaine couldn't be sure, but he did what he thought was best. He played a few keys on the piano and started to sing.

_'Smile though your heart is aching_

_Smile even though it's breaking._

_When there are clouds in the sky_

_you'll get by._

Ryder looked up at Blaine in utter shock. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. _Is he singing to me? _He thought.

_If you smile through your pain and sorrow_

_Smile and maybe tomorrow_

_You'll see the sun come shining through_

_For you._

_Light up your face with gladness,_

_Hide every trace of sadness._

_Although a tear may be ever so near_

_That's the time you must keep on trying_

_Smile, what's the use of crying._

_You'll find that life is still worthwhile-_

_If you just smile.'_

_Did I just sing to him? _Blaine was beginning to panic a little, and tried to avert his eyes away from Ryder, who was still sat in his seat, but his eyes were focused on Blaine's.

"That was really good Blaine. You're really good." Ryder sniffed. He didn't know much about Blaine, only that he was a good singer, gay and had just cheated on his boyfriend, and was going through a lot at the moment.

"Thanks, you looked like you needed it." Blaine said with a chuckle. The song was one he absolutely adored. It was the song he sung when he was sad, and it never failed to make him _smile._

"I did, and I'm sorry you had to see me like that... I just got some intense news, and just needed a moment." Ryder knew that telling Blaine was probably a bad idea, due to his own problems, but he needed to tell someone who wasn't Jake or Finn. He needed to say it to someone who didn't know what was going on with him. He didn't know why, or how, he just needed to let the words out.

Blaine looked at him, his fingers tracing the back of his hand in mild anticipation. Ryder took the hint, and said through the last of his tears, "I'm dyslexic."

Honestly, Blaine didn't know how to react. He didn't know whether to be sorry, or to be supportive, or anything. He just stood there, trying to look like he knew what to say, but said nothing. He thought he should sing another song, but that probably wasn't smart.

Then it came to him, Ryder needed a friend. He needed someone to tell him that everything was going to be okay, and that there would be someone he could talk to. Then to his surprise, Ryder hugged him.

The hug was warm, and comforting for Ryder. He had never really hugged a guy before, but right now he didn't care, it could've been a tree. He just needed to feel something other than self pity and disappointment, and Blaine was it.

Bells started ringing in Blaine's mind. He was nowhere near qualified to comfort another person when he could hardly look after his own emotional well being. They were both emotional wrecks, and Blaine couldn't cope with having a young, handsome boy seeking comfort in him. It wasn't fair.

Blaine pulled away, patting Ryder lightly on the back with a friendly smile. Ryder returned it, rubbing his eye, and laughing at himself a little.

"Do you want to talk about it Ryder?" Blaine asked, hoping his answer would be no, as there was no way Blaine could stifle being in the same room as Ryder, alone.

Ryder shook his head, and gave Blaine a weak smile.

"Thanks again man, I owe you one." Ryder said cooly, as if it were any casual situation. He turned around and walked out the choir room door, not looking back.

Blaine slumped back into his seat, running his hand across his face, bashing the keys on the piano, anything he could to cool himself down. He hadn't realised how much of an effect Ryder had had on him. He was attracted to a straight, handsome, vulnerable guy that he barely. And this scared him. He still wasn't completely over Kurt, and there was a sense of guilt, building rapidly inside him. Like he had done it again. He had to convince himself that it could never work, and that he had made the whole thing up.

But to his unawareness, Ryder had left the choir room with more than just a smile on his face, he had left with a pang in his heart, and a rush through his veins. He knew that being dyslexic meant he found it hard to read words, but that doesn't mean he found it hard to read faces.


End file.
